In the sunlight belonging to October in bed, I awaken to that sweet scent of last night's pleasure, belonging to us
-and the phone rings I hear the voices of two times ten
-and while gently staring at congenial stains the machine runs off numbers and names-
the over-worked boss reminding me to be on time the friendly social worker with the family on line the run away brother with no home to go to and the rent bill, the dentist bill, and the everybody- else-bill-who-wants-something-more-than-I-already-owe- for, too-
it's in this sunlight, belonging to October where I click the machine off and make this day off where I rest in morning memory, under the sheets we slept upon, during last night's play
-and tho they're taking me to the cleaners ev'ry thing is o.k.
for I've got you who loves me.